Tuna & Ribs
by teamfreewill82
Summary: "Tell me one reason why I should believe you." "Because I came here." -s2 [Seddie] [ONESHOT] [EDITED]


**Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Sam & Cat**_ **or anything pertaining to it except my own writing.**

 **A/N: This is set two months after Kansas Razorback tuna fish accident and Sam's fake accident- i.e. getting 'run over by a sports utility vehicle.' I don't really watch Sam & Cat, but when I heard about Freddie making an appearance I recorded it right away to watch it… and promptly died. Seddeeehhh**

Sat on the couch, Sam was immersed in the newest-released episode of _L.A.F.H.V._ ( _L.A.'s Funniest Home Videos_ ). One video featured an old woman trying to jump over a kiddie pool on a bicycle and she flipped, dumping herself into the pool. Sam grinned, chuckling.

"Stupid old lady," she murmured to herself. Her smile faltered slightly when she remembered the accident that had happened nearly two months before. Cat being thrown from Dirty Skipper's dirt bike. That was when she had met Jade… and when Freddie had come into town to see her. Freddie had put up been in the hospital for nearly a month, and he'd left L.A. a couple weeks back because his crazy mom had been freaking out, as usual. He had promised to come back though. Eventually.

Nopity nope.

Sam stood and stomped to the fridge, pulling out her leftovers from Robin's Ribs, along with a beer. She was just popping off the cap when her cell rang. She set the bottle onto the counter and went to grab it off the table in front of the TV.

"Freddie," she said aloud, even though she was alone in her living room and talking to herself made her cringe. The message he had sent read, _Outside_.

Simple enough. Sam smiled a little, despite herself, and forced her feet to walk somewhat slowly to open the front door. And there he was, seated on the stone circle bench.

"Freddie," Sam repeated, this time with an audience of more than just herself. "What're you doing back here so soon? I figured after your last visit's success your mom would've had a leash made for you. A short one."

He stood, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. "Nah; she… already has one. Anyway, uh, I just thought I should—come and tell you I'm okay." He held up his hands, palms open. "I'm okay." He closed his eyes, then, looking down to his feet.

"You could've just called," she pointed out, then brushed it off. "Whatever. You're here. So, where're you staying?"

"Oh, yeah, remind me to never put where I'm going on TheSlap ever again," Freddie said. "Robbie invited me to stay with him. And that's where I'll get to be for the weekend."

Sam grinned. "Frobbie lives on."

"If I could help it, I would," he assured her. "So… what's been up with you?"

"Oh, nothing much. Eating, riding my motorcycle. Riding my motorcycle to get food. The usual." Unable to keep still, Sam drummed her hands against her thighs. "You? Talked to Carly?"

"Hard to talk to a girl in Italy," Freddie said. Sam understood that. Despite the fact that Carly was supposed to be her best friend, they barely got around to talking anymore, what with the time difference and the whole 'having separate lives' deal.

"We'll hear from her soon," Sam said. "Definitely." There was a pause in which they both knew this probably wasn't true, and Sam played with her phone. "I'm still sorry about your accident. I know if I'd just—"

"You couldn't have done anything," Freddie told her. "Unless you locked Cat in the closet like she'd done to you, there's no way you could've stopped me or Robbie from ending up in that tank."

"Right. I know that." Another beat, and Sam went on, "Well, I'd better get inside. Ribs'll get… room temperature. Text me or—whatever." Sam stepped back through her open door and was halfway to the kitchen when three knocks rapped upon the door. She opened it. "Freddie. What—?"

"I can't leave yet, Sam," he said. "Can we—talk?" She nodded unsurely and he walked in past her to sit on the couch.

"So. Talk," she said, gesturing at him.

"It isn't that simple. I just… can't stop thinking about what you said." Freddie's eyes, having been focused on his hands, moved to Sam's face. She hated the way he always seemed to see into her the way he did. It was unnerving. "Were you really exaggerating?"

She pretended to not understand. "Exaggerating what?"

"You know what. Me being the only guy you ever really loved." The obvious answer would be to deny it, but the first thing in her head was no, not at all. She'd meant every word.

"Not technically," she said instead, a blatant lie that she was sure Freddie would see right through.

"Sam…" He hesitated. "When Cat called and told me you had been run over, I couldn't believe it. It made me think about when I had been hit by that stupid taco truck and how badly I'd been hurt and how you must be _dying_ —"

"Get to the point, Fred-bag."

"My _point_ is, it felt like my heart dropped into my stomach, and I couldn't breathe. I kept thinking about how you didn't even know—"

"Freddie. Seeing you with Cat… I'll admit I was a little pissed off." Sam wanted to sit down. She felt weird just standing while he sat on her couch; she had no idea what to do with her body and hated it. "But what really got at me was the fact that after all the shit I've done to you, you still came here on a plane when you thought I'd been hurt, even though I've hurt you more times than I can count."

Freddie stared at his hands. "Why did you leave Seattle?" he asked her.

"I… I guess I thought getting some distance between us would be good," Sam admitted. "And that leaving would make time without Carly pass by faster."

"You had—you have me."

"I know. Maybe that's the problem. I mean, come on, we've been frenemies since our freshman year in high school," Sam said. "Then we dated. Then we broke up. And even after _that_ we didn't date anyone." Sam hated to even have to say this, but it was the truth: "I still haven't."

"I haven't either," he told her. "No matter what I do… I just—I can't get… _us_ out of my head. I don't want to wait for Carly to want to be with me for real, because I feel like maybe she was just a stupid obsession I had or something. Looking back, it feels pretty pathetic." Sam had to agree. "But you… Somehow I fell for you even after you practically drove me to the point where I should just hate you—"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam muttered.

"I mean… I'm still falling for you, Sam," Freddie told her. "Every time I hear your voice, see you–hell, _think_ about you. And it makes me feel like crap, because I know you're out here, living a brand-new life that doesn't include me or any of us back in Seattle."

"I just wanted space," said Sam. "I could never forget you guys. Why do you think I haven't dated anyone? For some reason that I can't even understand, you never leave my mind! Everything has to do with you. Want to get smoothies? Freddie's favorite kind is strawberry-kiwi-explosion. Want to get some food? That's what Freddie used to say. It's actually that demented. It's like some cosmic, never-ending joke."

"You don't think I go through that? Someone shoves me, I think of you. Someone yells at me, I think of you, especially if it's a girl, cuz I think, oh hey, maybe it's Sam—and it never is! I miss you _abusing_ me," Freddie stated incredulously. "That's not right."

"I miss your stupid techy geekness. You never say the one! And it's _intentional_!"

Freddie stood from the couch, facing her. "Sam, I want you to move back."

"What?" she said, caught off guard.

"Neither of us are any better apart," Freddie said. "If anything, we're worse."

Sam turned away from him, her hands flying over her face in frustration. This was exactly why she had left. "Don't you get it, Freddie? _This_ —our relationship was never made to work. We broke up because that's what's right and we _knew_ that."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

She faltered, and she hate herself for it. "Yes. I have to. Because otherwise… I just—I can't do this." She moved past him. "I need ribs."

"Sam—" She grabbed a rib and was about to bite into it when he continued, "Sam, you can't just walk away from these situations."

"The hell I can't." She opened the back door.

"Sam, stop!" Freddie yelled. She stopped. He had never actually _shouted_ at her before. He hadn't dared. "Sam. I… I love you." The last time he had said that had been when they'd just broken up.

"You don't mean that," she told him, without turning back around.

"Don't I? I'm in love with you, Sam; I have been since you decided to move out of Seattle to go on your crazy motorcycle rode trip. I was such an ass that I realized it too late, and when I did you were already gone. Down the street, yeah, but your mind was set."

Sam looked back at him, but still refused to move. "Freddie, you think you know me, but you don't."

He scoffed. "Don't feed me that bullshit, Sam. How can you say that? We've been around each other for five years, and you think I don't know you?" With each word, he walked closer. "You're selfish, rude, angry at the world, and believe you're better on your own. That about cover it?" She said nothing. "But I also know that you can be compassionate, loving, and kind when you want to be. Fierce."

"So that's it then, huh? A few words and I'm supposed to… what?" she asked. "Say that yes, Freddie, you know me so much better than I know myself?"

"No. You're supposed to agree with me that I do, at least, know you."

"That's not it. I get arrested, I fight. You think you love me, but it's been obvious since day one of this entire mess that you shouldn't be a part of all that crap," Sam maintained. "You actually have a good future ahead of you; you always have. Carly was the one with the good head on her shoulders, I was the one she bailed out of jail. She was the one you were always in love with, and you were the boy I could never have after we were through. It's over. It's been over since Carly left. She was the glue that kept us all together, even when we were and are now more than ever completely different."

Freddie had been shaking his head, disagreeing, and now, he did the one thing he'd been wishing he could do for the longest time: He kissed Sam, and when she didn't immediately pull away, he softened the grip he'd pressed into her arms. She wanted to stop this, knew without a doubt that she should. After all, kissing him meant no going back to what little they had left. But it felt so good to let it go. After fighting her feelings for so long, letting him hold her without fighting felt like such a huge relief. Which is why she raised her arms to his neck, kissing him back.


End file.
